“Blessed are you pilgrim if what concerns you most is not to arrive, as to arrive with others.”

There is a kind of glue that binds pilgrims together even if you have only met a person twenty minutes before. And you walking together. It isn’t anything serious or is it? It seems totally natural and random. But was that person put there to meet me at that give time and place? Was this all sort of choreographed? You may loose track of that person in the few following hours and then you meet again and it is the best thing ever.

And you are continuing arriving, to that first cup of coffee, to the top of the rise, to a stunning view, to lunch, to working on each other’s feet, to the shade, to the albergue. And it’s fun because you have this companionship. And there are two of you, or four or six. And you want to keep up with the pace. You dread getting hurt and having to stay behind, the glue wants to hold.

This glue starts to seem like the best substance ever. You wonder about it. Or maybe you don’t think about it at all because it all seems so natural. It just is. And then one day shortly afterward you find yourself on a plane surrounded by people who think more of their devices than each other. And you feel neglected and mad.

Where is that glue? What happened? How do I reconnect? Was I mistaken? Was it all a dream? Nobody seems to understand here.

more tomorrow loves, Felipé.